Let's check out that bathroom.

You walked into the bathroom and looked around. It was empty and inconspicuous with all the same lighting from the lobby, perhaps a little more natural and clear to prevent any accidents from happening inside. What is different is the occasional knock coming from where in the room.

Since you have the urge to piss, you decide to go press forward in the bathroom, where you quickly judge that the final stall is the cleanest, not to say that the room was dirty, to begin with.

You step in and close the door behind you to lock it. Plastered along the walls are graffiti. At first, you regard it as patron vandalization, but when you start rereading, however, you find that it’s just part of the decor.

A steady stream of urine flows out of you, and you sigh. Then, finally, a wave of relief and the subtle sound of splashing pushes out the white noise. Meanwhile, your eyes start wandering over the words on the walls; it’s nonsense mostly, but it’s kind of entertaining.

Tired, you let out a long yawn and glance down. The last time you seriously thought about pee was when Alexandra pissed all over you during your brief yet memorable night with her. You pucker your lips and shift your weight, changing the direction of where your piss is going to pass the time.

Once you’re done, you tuck yourself away and then glance to your right and notice there’s something you missed... There’s a small, fist-sized hole in the wall, smoothed out with soft fabric, perhaps some kind of carpet or blanket. You squat down and study the wall. You deduct it is a glory hole step away. You didn’t want to see a dick coming out of it, so you stood up and left. However, just as you unlock the door to the cubicle, a voice calls out.

“Wait,” it’s a woman’s voice for sure. So you pause and turn around. There’s only one place where that voice could have come from. Around the glory hole, fingers were holding onto the edges of the port. “Didn’t you come in here for me?”

You look around and shift your legs. “Not exactly,” you tell the mysterious figure, who is now tapping their fingers. “I mean…I suppose the last person here looked a little happy. I thought he just took a good shit was all, nothing that pointed towards this.”

“Mm,” the voice muses. “No, mister. That was because of me. He came in here with innocent intent, too, however. But… giggles, well, you saw how he left. I make sure I treat every man that comes into this stall if I’m around. It’s kind of what I do on the side.”

“On the side?” You inquire—another giggle.

“Yes, sir. On the side. I take tips, but not just the tip, if you get the drift~.”

“I get your drift.”